


Moscow/Moskau

by Ischa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comment Fic, Disturbing Themes, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-15
Updated: 2011-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-22 15:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is about how Sam doesn’t deal with Dean’s death and how Dean gets out of hell.<br/>Comment fic for the ‘write the first episode of Season 4 in 500 words or less’ challenge.</p><p><i>The cell phone rings. You don’t have to check the caller-ID to know it’s Bobby. Nowadays it’s always Bobby. You don’t have anyone else left.<br/>You don’t want to talk to him and you know he’ll leave another message. He’s working on it. You know he is. And you, you aren’t dealing with Dean’s death.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Moscow/Moskau

**Title:** Moscow  
 **Pairing** : none  
 **Rating:** PG - 13  
 **Summary:** This is about how Sam doesn’t deal with Dean’s death and how Dean gets out of hell.  
 **Warning(s):** none.  
 **Author’s Notes:** Gen fic, also comment fic for the ‘write the first episode of Season 4 in 500 words or less’ challenge over at sammessiah.  
 **Word Count:** 446  
 **Beta:** asm_z  
 **Disclaimer:** Don’t know, don’t own, not real

\---  
So, you knew how it would be because you’ve been here before. Done that, seen it all.  
That, of course, doesn’t make it easier, doesn’t mean you’re prepared. You aren’t because hope is a bitch. Defeat isn’t a concept your family understands well – it isn’t something you can deal with very well. (The concept of sacrifice you fucking embrace!) Usually it’s a simple thing: Something hurts you, you kill it. Worked for your dad, worked for Dean…works for you.  
But you aren’t prepared, wasn’t prepared to lose, to lose the fight, to lose Dean.

~+~  
The cell phone rings. You don’t have to check the caller-ID to know it’s Bobby. Nowadays it’s always Bobby. You don’t have anyone else left.  
You don’t want to talk to him and you know he’ll leave another message. He’s working on it. You know he is. And you, you aren’t dealing with Dean’s death.  
“We can’t bring him back…right now.” Bobby says. He cornered you and you want to leash out, scream, but it’s Bobby. You still don’t want to listen to a GodDamnedThing he says.  
All these weeks with him and his books and you have nothing. Nothing.

~+~  
You are working on other things. Trying to wash away the anger, hate, guilt with as much demon blood as possible. There is a lot of it out there. You’re drenched in it, you think sometimes that your skin absorbed the tastes and smells of it.

~+~  
The City looks abandoned, broken. Like an old whore. There is still life, but it’s forsaken, dark, crawling - greedy. Life here is insects on a windowsill.

“They are hiding…” a raspy voice says. You turn around, gun in hand – ready to pull the trigger, to see an old woman standing in the shadows.

“Who?”

“The demons, of course.” She giggles like a girl…a horrible sound. Reminds you of Lilith, your skin crawls. You don’t ask how she knows, you are chosen, special, damned…all that crap.

“You’re not.”

She shrugs. “Well…I’m not afraid.”  
You think she should be and, as she chuckles, you know she knows what you’re thinking.  
“I never was…” she says and steps out of the shadows. She’s slim, her hair white and short, full lips and she has these eyes…

“Oh my god…” you whisper. She giggles again and looks at you – indulgent.

“No…but, I suppose it’s a near enough call.” She grins, charming – without teeth.  
You can’t say a fucking word and the silence stretches. It feels like an eternity.

“I hope you didn’t mess with my car, Sammy.” She says.

“No…I…” you stammer.

“Good. Let’s go.” She answers and steps forward. She’s slow, broken – near death.

~End~


End file.
